


Black Tape

by mathildia



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Implied Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan, M/M, Rape Aftermath, Violence, captain swan and their constant lying lying ways, facial injury, golden hook, this makes my usual golden hook fics look romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 23:31:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8179897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathildia/pseuds/mathildia
Summary: Set during the S4 hiatus. Gold’s banished from Storybrooke for six weeks. A man needs a hobby.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The CS is quite light and mainly implied, but I've had some nice comments from CSers so I thought the tag might be useful.

There’s another pop and Hook finds he’s back, right where he was: Snow’s washed wood living room. And fully dressed, at least. No idea how long he’d even been gone. Maybe 45 minutes? Certainly less than an hour.

Emma’s there. _Oh, Swan._ Emma’s running towards him all concern and she’s saying, “Hook, Killian, Hook, what happened? Where did you go? Oh my god, what happened to you?” Snow’s there too he realises, as he hears her say, “David went looking for you. Are you alright?” But her face never comes into focus as his legs give way under him like wet paper, and nobody quite catches him in time.

He wakes on the sofa. It feels like only moments later. He’s under a blanket and now the whole family are here. Not his family. Hers. They’re crowding around like he’s dying. Is he dying? They look concerned. Even more concerned that before. Perhaps he’s bleeding. Is he bleeding? Is he bleeding _there_? They wouldn’t have looked there though, would they? Would they? Why would they look there? You don’t undress someone because they’ve fainted. Even Emma wouldn’t… 

He touches his hand to his thigh under the blanket. His breeches are still on. He lets his pounding head sink deeper back into the cushions. 

Emma says, “Killian? What happened? You just vanished, then reappeared like…”

“In blue smoke,” says David. “There was blue smoke.”

“It was more purplish,” says Snow, “bluish purple.”

“The colour of the smoke isn’t important,” Emma says to her parents, snappy and annoyed. “What’s important is who did it. Whose magic was it? Was it Regina?” She’s leaning right over him suddenly, and he has to clench his jaw to stop himself from cowering away.

He tries to smile at her. _Damn, she’s pretty._ “Regina? No.” he says in a tiny croak. His throat is so sore. Why is his throat so sore? Oh yes, the screaming. There had been screaming. Screaming without sound. Screaming into… 

_Oh yes, try and scream, dearie. I like that._

He lets his eyes close again on Emma’s next question. “Killian, what happened to your face. Your mouth.”

His mouth is sore, but he’s a lot sore everywhere. The burning ache across his shoulders has most of his attention. But his lips and the skin around his mouth are definitely torn and broken. 

He can’t see her right now, but he knows the look on her face. Sometimes Emma looks at him like she’s seen everything before. Every horror of the world. “Was there tape on your mouth?” she says and her voice is brittle, “When was there tape on your mouth?”

He just keeps his eyes closed. 

*

“I know you’re lying about it.” It’s days later and Emma catches up to him on the pavement outside Granny’s - the first time he’s left the place in days, and she’s a gloved hand on his elbow that he can’t bring himself to pull away from. 

“I’m not lying, I’m just not telling.” When he looks at her, she’s so bright and good he doesn’t know where to put himself. She shouldn’t be touching a thing like him. 

_What was the worst part of it? He wasn’t even sure. Perhaps just the way his clothes had come off with a snap of the monster’s fingers._

_He’d tried to make light of it. He’d said, “What’s this? Did you mean to bring Belle to you? Maybe your aim is off, Crocodile,” and he’d been rewarded with a backhand around the face, sharp enough that he stumbled half a step backwards, and a hiss of, “Say her name again, pirate, and I’ll cut out your tongue.”_

“I know it wasn’t Regina.” Emma says, face pale, ice chip eyes staring into him like she was trying got read his mind. She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t.

“I told you it wasn’t Regina.” 

“Was it Gold?” says Emma and it’s like the wind has been knocked out of him at the name. He shakes his head, looking away, trying to move back, but she tightens her grip on his arm. “Please, Killian, what do you know? Does Gold have magic? Is he back? Where he is? I need to know.”

He just says, “Yes.” 

_There had been magic; handcuffs on him with another snap of the monsters fingers. He’d begun to twist at them on instinct, snarling, “You never did like fair fight, did you?” as he searched for a a weak spot in the restraints that he knew he wouldn’t find. The cuffs were magical, they even gripped tight enough not to slip over his hook._

_“Oh, I don’t intend to fight you,” The Crocodile said. “Quite the opposite, in fact.” And he took hold of the chain between Killian’s wrists and pushed his face ever closer. “I don’t like to lose, Pirate. You lost me everything.” And with a small movement he drew his head back a little and spat in Killian’s face._

“Yes what? Yes he has magic?”

“Yes, he has magic.” 

_The Crocodile vanished, making his new location known with a hard kick to the back of Killian’s thighs and he went sprawling forward onto his knees; down onto the dirty floor._

_Pain had shot up his legs from where his knees had slammed into the concrete, his cuffed wrists only breaking the fall a little.Then the weight of the Crocodile was on his back, leaning down and reaching over him; holding something in front of his face. Black tape._

_Not enough magic for a silencing spell, then, so instead this brutish practice, which had proved just as efficient. The monster had wound the thick, sticky tape round and around Killian’s head, sealing his mouth. Killian had fought hard - but merely ended up snorting urgently through his nose, edging on panic as he found himself barely able to breathe at all._

“What did he do?” says Emma. She’s blinking a lot like she’s tearful. Killian isn’t sure why. “I know he hurt you. Did he take your heart again? Is that why you’re being like this?”

“I’m not being like anything.” 

_Next, there had been something attached to his ankles, something rigid that - he realised with a sick, sinking feeling - held his legs apart, held him open. And his wrists were dragged back between his legs and locked to the bar too, so he was forced to support himself on his shoulders, his arse in the air; his whole body trapped and held firm._

_He knew what must be coming now from he position alone, but he still flinched when the monster touched him, slid up his fingers up and down a little, found his hole and stopped, circling there. Killian wailed into the tape sealing his mouth._

_“Don’t be too hasty to decide, dearie, some men enjoy this, you know.”_

“Then tell me what happened. You have to tell me.”

“I can’t tell you.” 

_It had been a long process - or one that seemed long and seemed slow - as the monster opened him up. It wasn’t something Killian was exactly new to. He’d been on ships all his life. But like this - restrained, gagged, helpless and used - this was different. The monster had some kind of grease to ease the process. And there was no preventing it, as the device he was locked into held him so completely open and vulnerable. He turned his head to the side, lay his cheek on the dirty floor and whimpered into the tape, as the monster worked his way deeper and deeper into him._

“Can’t or won’t?” says Emma sharply, and he looks at her. Lost. For a moment, he’d half forgotten she was there. He opens his mouth, but there’s nothing to say, so he shakes his head and turns and walks away from her. There’s half a block between them when she shouts, “Killian, please. Why do you always do this? Why won’t you ever let me help you?”

She’s still coming after him, so he stops again, because what else can he do, run away from her? Maybe he should. At least he can run. From her he can run. “Let me help you,” she sprints the last few steps, pounding to a halt in front of him, breathing hard. “Please. Let me.”

“Why, because you’re the saviour?” 

_He got hard so suddenly he moaned into the tape with genuine need. There was a sound behind him like a short hum of delight. The monster’s fingers, repeated an action inside him and he felt himself, without any kind of conscious control, slipping back further into the touch._

_Behind him he heard the monster make another low, satisfied hum. “I love you too, dearie.”_

_And with that mock affection, the monster slid his fingers out and slid his dick in. The preparation might have been drawn out and humiliating, but it clearly wasn’t enough. KIllian gasped and bucked at how thick and tight it was, but two firm hands were on the tops of each of his thighs and yanked him backwards, preventing any attempt to control the pace. The pace. The pace which built from that sudden jolt into something hard and relentless and brutal. Killian screamed himself hoarse into the gag, tearing his skin against the strong tape, as the monster took him. His cock was still hard against his belly, jerking, and weeping more than he was himself, at this endless and relentless intrusion._

_And then the monster’s right hand moved from his thigh and wrapped itself around it…_

Emma looks at him so sadly as she says, “Yes.”

“I managed to fight him for 300 years without you, Swan.” 

_He didn’t feel the rough pulls on his dick as much as the rough concrete shredding every part of his body that was in contact with it. Each thrust was so hard now he was forced along the floor a little; the monster ’s hands hauling him back again each time. The tape gag he was even grateful for as it shielded his face rom the scrape of the concrete he was forced to lie on._

_Until the gag started to peel away from the friction. Then his face was being dragged bare along the concrete, but his mouth was free. “Please,” he spluttered out. “Please. Why are you doing this?”_

“No, no you didn’t. You’ve never fought him with any success at all. What did he do to you?” What if he does it again?”

“Again?” His voice drops low. “Swan, he can do it to me any time he wants. And there’s nothing anyone can do.” 

When he’s with Emma, he always feels like he’s already braced for her to leave him. To push him away and reject him, to pull him closer and then tell him no. She’s so good and pure. Too good. Too good for him in any case. Emma who takes all the harm the world can do and pushes back. Pushes it back and makes it into a shell around her. He knows he’s not good enough for her. Never will be good enough for her. Not for a princess. Every time another piece of darkness takes him he knows it makes him less and less worthy of her.

_“I told you. I don’t like to lose.” And what ‘not losing’ meant to the monster, became clear very quickly. It was more than, taking him like this, more than using him: The Crocodile meant to make Killian come, like this, in addition to using him, he meant to force an orgasm out of him._

_The Crocodile jerked Killian’s dick as he pounded into his arse, hips held steady, Killian’s whole body rigid and taut and helpless. The monster’s hand was a tight, slick well. The pleasure sickened him, even as it built, even as he sobbed, “Please don’t, please don’t make me…”_

_“Seems there’s more than one way to take your heart, dearie.”_

_And when he did come - it didn’t take long - he felt like he was dying._

_The Crocodile pulled out before his own climax. Right before. And Killian had wondered what he was doing as he felt the warm spatter of the monster’s release spray down between his legs, some of it hitting his hand. It had seemed like an odd choice, until he realised what it was. The great prize. The way he was already permanently marked._

_It was the hook. The monster was coming on the hook._

And she’s going to offer to fight the monster for him, Swan, offer magic; like she even could fight The Dark One. Offer her and Regina together; like Regina even would. And she thinks it’s only happened once. That’s the sweetest thing. That she thinks the Crocodile has only taken him and abused him the one time she saw it happen.

But before she can even say anything, there’s a fizz in the air like just before an electrical storm, and bluish purple smoke is rising around him again.

**Author's Note:**

> http://mathildia.tumblr.com/


End file.
